


Wet Hot Road Trip

by justdk



Series: Rovinsky Road Trip [1]
Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: M/M, Outdoor Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Road Trips, Semi-Public Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-09-14 09:43:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16910589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justdk/pseuds/justdk
Summary: Kavinsky's bored and horny, Ronan's hot and sweaty. Solution? Taking a sexy dip in the river





	Wet Hot Road Trip

**Author's Note:**

> NSFW! SMUT! PWP!

It’s hot. So fucking hot.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if Kavinsky would stop smoking. Then they could roll up the windows and blast the AC like any other sane person. But no. Kavinsky _was_ _bored_. He _was_ _wired_. He _needed to take the edge off, man_.

Ronan shifts gears, sending the BMW screeching around another hairpin turn on the winding mountain road. They could go faster but it’s a scenic parkway and clogged with vacationers. Ronan wonders what it will be like at night, driving through empty stretches of Virginia, their headlights the only ones on the road. It’ll be dangerous, for sure, but he’s never been scared of a little danger.

“Ronan, pull over. I gotta piss.” Kavinsky digs his heel into Ronan’s thigh. Kavinsky’s sprawled sideways in the passenger seat, one foot in Ronan’s lap, the other on the floor. His legs are spread about as far as they can be in his current position.

“We’re almost to the bridge,” Ronan reminds him. “We’ll stop there.”

“Yes, Daddy,” Kavinsky replies. Ronan glares at him and Kavinsky tips down his sunglasses and winks, his lips curved in a dirty smile.

“No McDonald’s for you, then,” Ronan mutters. Kavinsky cackles, shifting his foot so it’s pressing on Ronan’s crotch. Ronan stiffens, foot reflexively pushing down harder on the accelerator. The BMW surges forward, nearly rear ending a minivan from Florida. “Damn it, K!” Ronan yells.

“Oh, baby, I’m just getting started,” Kavinsky purrs. He applies more pressure, the side of his foot rubbing up and down over the rough denim of Ronan’s jeans. Ronan bites his lip and clenches his fingers around the steering wheel. He looks frantically for the pullover sign but is met with an endless stretch of trees.

Kavinsky shifts around and Ronan hears the sound of a zipper being pulled down. He looks over to find Kavinsky with one hand down his pants, only the length of his wife beater keeping him from exposing himself to passing motorists.

“Christ…” Ronan swears. He’s about to wreck the car from being distracted, not just from the way the heel of Kavinsky’s foot is grinding against his dick, but also by the noises K makes as he jerks off. “I thought you had to pee,” Ronan says through gritted teeth.

“Was lying,” Kavinsky pants. “Just want you to take a break, Lynch. _Ah!_ We’ve been in the car for _hours_.”

Kavinsky’s foot slips, kicking Ronan’s thigh. Ronan startles and finally uses his better judgment to push Kavinsky’s leg off of his. Not that Kavinsky seems to mind or notice. His head is tipped back against the open window, his hair blown messy. He’s entirely indecent and Ronan _aches_ with wanting him. He reaches over and squeezes Kavinsky’s wrist, momentarily stopping him.

“Put it back in your pants,” Ronan commands. He sounds eerily like Declan and that makes him hesitate. Kavinsky shakes him off. “I mean it, K. C’mon. I promise we’ll fuck or do whatever you want as soon as we pull over. Just… don’t. Not right now.”

“So Catholic,” Kavinsky teases. But he does as Ronan says, zipping his pants up and straightening in his seat, his legs still spread. “I’m fucking hard, man, so I except you to take care of this.”

Ronan shifts in his seat. “I’m not exactly limp over here,” he reminds K, “thanks to you.”

“Mmm, you’re welcome, babe.” Kavinsky digs around and pulls out his nearly empty pack of cigarettes and lights up. Ronan sucks in an annoyed breath. The BMW is never going to be the same after this road trip.

It’s several more charged minutes before they reach the pull off at the Roanoke River. Unlike other pullovers on the parkway this one is big, with lots of parking spots, most of them full.

“Looks crowded,” Kavinsky observes. “Ya still gonna feel up to fucking with an audience, Lynch?”

Ronan groans. He wasn’t expecting the spot to be so popular. But he’s sweating like a bitch in heat and the promise of dipping into the cool river is the only thing that’s kept him sane for the past hour.

“It’s a big area,” he reasons, unbuckling his seatbelt. “I bet we’ll find some privacy.”

Kavinsky sighs. “I’d rather take it in the backseat, man. Doing it in the woods? Good way to get poison ivy or ticks or, fuck, I don’t know. Worms?”

“Worms?!” Ronan gets out of the car and walks to the passenger side, opening the door and hauling Kavinsky out. He reaches into the backseat and retrieves his beach towel. Kavinsky leans against the car, doing nothing to hide the bulge in his pants. Ronan sighs. At least he’s managed to get his hard on under control.

“Can you walk?” he asks.

Kavinsky eyes the trail leading down to the river. It’s steep and rocky. Kavinsky shakes his head. “Naw. But I’ll ride you down, cowboy.”

The couple getting into the car next to them gives him and Kavinsky disapproving looks. Kavinsky smiles nastily at them and Ronan stares belligerently.

“Hop on,” Ronan says, still glaring at the couple. He kneels down and Kavinsky clambers onto his back, his long legs wrapped around Ronan’s hips.

“Giddy up!” Kavinsky hollers. His arms wind around Ronan, keeping their bodies pressed together tight. Ronan can feel Kavinsky’s boner rubbing against his back with each step he takes. His neck and back prickle with sweat and the heat seems to increase by twenty degrees. It’s actually cooler, with a nice breeze blowing up from the river, but Ronan’s body is still burning. He grips Kavinsky’s legs behind the knees, making sure he doesn’t slip.

Halfway down the trail Ronan’s about ready to drop Kavinsky and sprint down the steep incline. He’s breathing hard from exertion and sweating like crazy. His hands keep losing their grip, slipping on sweat slick skin. His brain is consumed with two competing desires: sex and swimming. And swimming is coming out on top because it’s so fucking hot.

“Here.” Kavinsky reaches around and wipes Ronan’s face with the towel. He breathes on Ronan’s damp skin, cool puffs of air that tease as much as they help. “Well?” Kavinsky asks, his voice low and purposefully seductive. “Is that helping?”

“A little,” Ronan grunts. He hoists Kavinsky up to get a better hold.

Kavinsky groans, tightening his arms around Ronan. His hips move, not much considering how they’re positioned, but enough for him to slowly rut against Ronan’s back. Ronan’s breath catches in his throat and he nearly misses a step. He knows what this must look like to the hikers moving up the trail towards them. He ducks his face, concentrates on putting one foot in front of the other. His fingers dig into Kavinsky’s thighs.

Kavinsky’s hands slide across his chest, feeling him up over his sweat-soaked shirt. His thumbs rub over Ronan’s nipples making them so hard they ache. Ronan’s so turned on he can barely keep it together and he knows Kavinsky must be feeling the same way, judging by his heavy breathing and needy grasping.

“Almost there,” Ronan pants. He doesn’t know where _there_ is but they have to be close to some place where they can shove their pants down and fuck.

Kavinsky doesn’t answer. He presses his mouth to the side of Ronan’s neck and starts to suck, his teeth biting down hard enough that Ronan knows he’ll leave a mark.

Ronan gasps, his eyes closing and mouth falling open. Which isn’t the best thing that could happen while hiking down a trail. He trips on a tree root, stumbling forward, trying to keep his balance with K clinging to his back like a horny koala.

“Fuuuuuck!” Ronan yells. He catches himself against a large oak tree, his heart hammering from adrenaline. He can hardly breathe around the rush but at least they didn’t fall, at least they’re okay. For some reason his neck is stinging like a son of a bitch.

“Uhh…” Kavinsky sounds worried. “Ronan, your neck is bleeding.”

“What?” Ronan pushes off the tree and touches his neck. His fingers brush the spot where Kavinsky was biting him, hissing when he comes in contact with torn skin and blood. “Seriously?” Ronan mutters. “How bad is it?”

“On a scale of _Interview With a Vampire_ and _Twilight_?” Kavinsky dabs at the bite with the towel. “You’ll live.”

“Shit.” Ronan braces his hand against the tree and smacks at Kavinsky’s ass. “Down. I’m not carrying biters anymore.”

Kavinsky slides off his back and takes a few wobbly steps down the trail. “I think I’m in shock,” he complains. “Too much nature.”

Ronan rolls his eyes and grabs Kavinsky’s wrist, leading him. They’re almost to the river. He can see the various places where people are congregated. There’s no beach area, the shore composed of large rocks and boulders.

The sounds of laughter, kids shouting, and music reach them. It makes Ronan anxious, makes him squeeze Kavinsky’s arm harder than he means to. He’s got to be crazy to even think about trying to hook up in a place like this.

“You’re thinking too much,” Kavinsky says. He steps in front of Ronan. “I can find us the perfect spot, if you’re okay with getting wet.”

Ronan nods. His throat is dry and his neck is stinging. He peels off his shirt, enjoying the feel of cool air against his bare skin. Kavinsky follows suit, stripping off his wife beater and stuffing as much as will fit into his back pocket. Ronan takes in the view, admiring the way Kavinsky’s managed to fill out now that he’s kicked most of the drugs and has started eating food on a semi-regular basis. He’s also gotten more tattoos since they’ve been together, including the red and gold dragon that snakes around his body.

“I can feel you staring, Lynch,” Kavinsky says.

Ronan reaches for him, running his fingers down K’s back, tracing the dragon from his shoulder along his spine and over his hip, the tip of the tail hidden beneath the waistband of Kavinsky’s jeans.

“The boy with the dragon tattoo,” Ronan jokes. He tucks his hand into the back pocket of Kavinsky’s jeans.

“Better on my skin than in my brain,” Kavinsky shrugs. “Anyways, Lisbeth Salander is boss.”

“Mhmm.”

They walk far enough along the river that they find a secluded spot. The middle of the river is choppy with rapids but at the bank the water’s calm, swirling around the boulders. They pick their way over the rocks towards the water. Kavinsky seems to know what he’s doing but Ronan finds himself wishing they had just parked somewhere isolated instead; he feels too exposed out here under the open sky.

“Alright nature boy,” Kavinsky says, “we doing this?” He’s already unzipping his jeans and Ronan can’t look away.

Ronan nods. It’s like he suddenly can’t talk or even unbutton his jeans he’s so on edge. _Fuck they’re actually doing this._ Kavinsky’s already got his shoes off; he tugs down his jeans and briefs at once going from partially clothed to completely naked in a few seconds. He dips his foot in the river and shivers.

“On second thoughts…” Kavinsky hedges, “it’s pretty fucking cold.”

Ronan steps out of his jeans, the summer sun burning every inch of his exposed skin. Sweat trickles down his back and chest and when he catches Kavinsky looking he grins.

“That’s fine,” Ronan says. He sidles up next to K and wraps his arm around him, leaning in for a kiss. “But I’ll be lonely without you.”

Before Kavinsky can kiss him Ronan pulls back and jumps into the river, laughing at Kavinsky’s annoyed yelling. The water _is_ cold but deliciously so. Ronan stays below the surface, twisting around in the current, only returning to the surface when he can no longer hold his breath.

“You bastard,” Kavinsky growls. “You’re not coming out of there any time soon, are you?”

“Nope.” Ronan leans back, letting the water support him. The current drags him away from Kavinsky and he has to roll over and swim back. “You could join me. I’ll warm you up.”

Kavinsky stands above him and it would be so easy to grab his legs and pull him in. Instead Ronan pushes himself up and kisses K’s ankle. His gaze strays up and lingers on Kavinsky’s cock. He licks his lips and Kavinsky makes a frustrated sound.

“Fucker,” Kavinsky complains. “You never play fair.”

“I learned from the best.” This time when he pulls at Kavinsky’s legs, K follows, moving to sit on the boulder, his hands squeezing Ronan’s shoulders. Ronan slides his hands up Kavinsky’s thighs and hips before grabbing his ass and pulling him off the rock and into the river.

“OH FUCK!” Kavinsky’s shout is so loud that Ronan’s worried someone’s going to come investigate. “SHITTTTT.”

“Oh my God you are so dramatic,” Ronan laughs.

The bottom of the river is slick with mud and slippery rocks, making standing up a bit of a challenge, but Ronan manages it, holding on to K. Kavinsky’s legs are wrapped around him like a vice, heels pressing into Ronan’s lower back. Ronan rubs K’s back and shoulders, trying to warm him up. Kavinsky’s not so gentle, his fingernails dragging over Ronan’s skin, intentional marks to match the accidental bite mark. He’s acting like a damn cat that’s been forced into a bath.

“Fuck, can you even feel your dick right now?” Kavinsky moans. “Cause I can’t feel mine.”

“It’s not _that_ cold,” Ronan says. “And I can feel both of our dicks just fine.” He grinds his hips into Kavinsky’s, grinning at the hitch in K’s breathing. “Did you feel that?”

“Mmmm… I need you to make sure, though,” Kavinsky whines. His legs tighten around Ronan and he leans in, pressing their foreheads together, his dark eyes staring into Ronan’s. “Please?”

“Yeah.” Ronan reaches between their bodies and trails his fingers over Kavinsky’s cock, brushing his thumb roughly over the head. Kavinsky twitches, his nails biting into Ronan’s skin. “Feel that?” Ronan teases. Kavinsky whimpers.

Teasing him is fun and Ronan rarely gets the opportunity to be the provoking one so he takes his time. He kisses the side of Kavinsky’s neck, sucking on his warm skin. Kavinsky responds with rolling his hips, trying to get some friction. Ronan goes with it, wrapping his hand around both their dicks, his grip tightening as Kavinsky thrusts against him.

“Jesus…” Ronan moans. Any chill he felt from the river is gone. Kavinsky clings to him, moving faster, with more confidence, his breathing ragged. Ronan works his hand in time with Kavinsky’s thrusts, pushing them both closer to the edge.

“I… thought… you were gonna… fuck me,” Kavinsky pants. His eyes are hazy and his cheeks are flushed. Ronan yanks on K’s wet hair, pulling his head back, and kisses him. He can barely focus on the kiss, too consumed with everything that’s happening underwater, on the overwhelming need to get off. The current pulls against his legs, the river jostling the two of them together, rocking them back and forth.

It’s this extra sensation, this feeling of being not totally in control, that makes Ronan lose it. He holds tight to Kavinsky and shudders, warmth spilling over his hand for a moment. Kavinsky groans into Ronan’s mouth, his body stiffening as he cums. Ronan kisses him messily, his mouth trailing over K’s lips and chin and jaw and neck. He’s unsteady, the river pushing him, making him want to just drift away.

“Fucker.” Kavinsky’s voice is a hoarse whisper, nearly drowned out by the rush of the rapids. “I can’t believe you just came in the river with all those people swimming downstream…”

Ronan flushes and frowns guiltily. “Oh shit… I wasn’t even thinking…”

Kavinsky’s grin is wicked. “Uh-huh. ‘s okay, baby. People piss in rivers all the time.”

“Dude, way to kill the mood,” Ronan complains.

Kavinsky just laughs. “Get me outta here, Lynch. I’m colder than a witch’s tit and I’m still fucking horny.”

Somehow Ronan manages to get them out of the river and onto the sun-warmed rocks. They towel off and pull on their briefs. Kavinsky roams around, peeking behind boulders and trees before calling out to Ronan, “I found it!”

Ronan climbs over to where Kavinsky is hidden by a formation of boulders. “Found what?”

“Hook up spot. Check it out.” Kavinsky waves his arm and Ronan takes in the debris of used condoms and wrappers, beer cans, and cigarette butts.

“Charming.”

“You just had me in the fucking river,” Kavinsky says, pointing his finger at Ronan. “So you can get your ass down here and let me have a proper fuck.”

Ronan grimaces and tosses the towel at K. “At least put that on the ground.” He picks his way around the cans. “What a mess.”

Kavinsky rolls his eyes and takes Ronan’s hands, pulling him down onto the towel. “You know what they say, man, your mind can make a heaven of hell or whatever.”

“By ‘they’ you mean Milton.” Ronan ignores the trash and focuses on Kavinsky. K’s kind of a trash boy, too, not that Ronan’s any better. “Look at you, using your Aglionby education to get in my pants.”

Kavinsky grins. “Lemme put that on my transcript.” He pushes Ronan on his back and hooks his thumbs in the waistband of his briefs. “But first, let’s see if you ace this next exam, Mr. Lynch.”

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is inspired by the many times I’ve been hiking and stumbled upon evidence of hook ups and wondered “who tf is having sex out here and why.” This was my attempt at answering those questions! I'm gonna go hide forever now
> 
> You can find me on tumblr @dkafterdark


End file.
